Different
by Revhead
Summary: Dean is not like other hunters. They are motivated by hatred and revenge, but Dean fights for another reason. Castiel is not like other angels. They are obedient, unquestioning, unfeeling, but as soon as Castiel met Dean he began to change. There is only one force more powerful than hate... (Can be read as friendship, bromance or pre-slash. Up to you.) Set in Season 5. Enjoy!


**Different**

"You are not like other hunters."

It was a testament to the sheer number of times the angel had turned up unannounced that Dean did not even flinch when Castiel's reflection suddenly appeared his bathroom mirror.

"You know, Cas, most people start conversations with 'Hello'."

The angel regarded him seriously for a moment. Then he vanished.

Dean blinked in surprise. Normally his visits lasted longer than just a few seconds, but then, Castiel's grasp on what was normal was tenuous at best.

Dean shrugged and continued shaving, only for the angel to reappear moments later.

"Hello, Dean."

Dean smirked. The angel might be clueless about human behaviour, but he tried very hard to learn. "Hello, Cas. How are you?"

Most people would have said 'fine' or 'good'.

"I am intrigued by the differences I have observed between you and other hunters," Cas said. "I would like to discuss it with you."

Apparently angels didn't do the whole small talk thing. They'd work on it later.

Dean washed the last of the shaving cream off his face and turned to meet Castiel's intense gaze. He used to find it disconcerting to be subject to such scrutiny, but now it was simply par for the course.

He leaned back against the sink, casually folding his arms across his chest and settling in for what already promised to be a strange conversation. "Okay, shoot."

Cas frowned a little. "I do not carry firearms. And I would not wish to discharge a weapon at you."

"Well that's good to know. But I meant that you can go ahead and say what's on your mind."

"Oh."

"So I'm different from other hunters, huh?" Dean prompted. He flashed a grin. "Better-looking, right?"

"God created all men in his image."

Dean sighed. He should know by now that the angel did not respond to humour. "What is it, then? I screw up more often?"

"That is untrue. You are the most effective hunter alive today. And I think I know why."

"A lifetime of training?" Dean asked dryly. When most boys had been learning to ride a bike and play soccer, Dean's father had taught him 101 ways to hunt and kill monsters. It had been his life since he was four years old.

Castiel shook his head. "No, that's not it. I believe that your motivation for hunting is what sets you apart."

Dean raised his eyebrows. "Cas, every hunter has a tragic story in their past. I haven't met a single one who didn't lose someone they cared about to supernatural causes. My mom's death doesn't make me unique..." _It just makes me another victim,_ he finished silently. _And with dad gone, it makes me an orphan._

"Why do you fight evil, Dean?"

He thought it was obvious. "Because evil killed my mom."

"But you don't do this for revenge."

Dean shrugged. "Well, maybe not anymore. I mean, the yellow-eyed demon is dead now."

"But hunting for your mother's killer was always John Winchester's crusade. The night he watched her burn, his heart was filled with hate. Seeking vengeance was all he cared about."

He knew it was true. He had experienced his father's obsession first hand. He had never been the same after his wife's death; he had become harder, colder, angrier, ruthless. "What's your point?" Dean asked hoarsely.

"Every other hunter I have researched or encountered has been like John. Evil killed their loved ones and they became hunters to gain retribution. Every single one has been motivated by hatred. Even Sam. But you're different."

"You don't think I wanted revenge on the son of a bitch that murdered my mother?" Was the angel trying to imply that Dean didn't love his mom as much as his father had, or as much as Sam had loved Jessica?

"Of course you did," Cas said calmly. "But what was more important to you? Finding and killing Azazel, or protecting your family?"

Dean was silent, but he knew the answer. Sam and his dad came first, every time. No question.

Cas took a step closer, his blue eyes more intense than ever. "You, Dean, are not motivated by hate. You're motivated by love."

And right at that moment, Dean decided this conversation was making him far too uncomfortable. "Oo-kay, that's enough of this chick-flick crap." He squeezed around Cas and escaped the tiny bathroom, but Cas followed him out into the motel room.

"It's what makes you different, Dean. It's what makes you stronger."

"Stronger?" Dean huffed a laugh. "I'm not strong, Cas."

"A person driven by hate will eventually be consumed by it. Hatred is born of darkness; it divides and it destroys. But love… love is the most powerful force in the universe. It builds, it enlightens, it brings people together, it creates, it heals, it forgives-"

"And it hurts like a son of a bitch."

Cas was making love sound like some beautiful thing made up of hugs and rainbows and puppies, but the truth was that love left you wide open for heartbreak. After all, the people Dean loved were the ones who had caused him the most pain.

His mother's murder had destroyed Dean's innocence. Watching Sam and their father fight all the time had torn Dean into pieces. Sam leaving him for Stanford had ripped the ground out from underneath him. His father vanishing without a word had made Dean feel abandoned and inadequate. His father's death had shaken his world and left him reeling.

Sam's death… there were no words. None.

But Sam's betrayal…

"Isn't there a saying among humans? It is better to have loved and lost than to have never loved at all?"

"That's bull crap."

Cas looked away. "I wouldn't know. Angels are loyal to our Father, and obedient to His commands. But emotions are discouraged." His eyes flicked to Dean. They looked empty. Or maybe… sad. "I have never loved."

Dean's heart gave a painful twinge. This whole conversation had felt like Castiel was laying his soul bare, reading him like no one else could, but maybe this wasn't about Dean after all.

"You said I wasn't like other hunters," Dean said quietly. "Well, Cas, I hate to break it to you, but I don't think you are like other angels."

A frown creased Castiel's forehead. "What are you saying?"

"Maybe you were an emotionless robot once, but you're changing, Cas. I can tell. I've seen you afraid, angry, relieved, hopeful… Maybe you don't show it as clearly as humans, but you do feel. I know you do."

Something changed in Castiel's expression. There was a glimmer, a spark, of some undefinable emotion that hadn't been there before. "So you think that someday I could learn to love?"

Pinned by blue eyes – which, Dean realised, could only convey such intensity if there were a powerful storm of emotions raging behind them – Dean could only swallow nervously, and nod.

"The love you have for your family, for people, for this world… it shines brighter in you than in any other human I have ever met. You know what it is to feel love, but more than that, you know how to harness it and make it the driving force behind everything that you do."

Cas moved closer, into his space. Dean could hardly breathe.

"I want you to teach me."

_The End_


End file.
